Chapter Three
SURPRISE, SURPRISE
LYRIC
T wo years later
“Why are we here again?” Fifi rolls her eyes, looking out at the rolls upon rolls of farmland we pass by on our way to Shelby-Love, Alabama.
“It’s a favor to FADE and it’s the kick off of publicity for the world tour. We have been over this like fifty-eleven times, girl.” I wave her off running my fingers through my son’s curly silken locs.
“Humph, that’s easy for you to say. Ain’t nobody going to be looking at you strange.” Crossing her arms she rolls her eyes again but she’s doing nothing to mar her lovely face. She literally the most beautiful person I have even seen with or without makeup not to mention her amazingly generous spirit and loyalty which she’s more than proven in the last couple of years.
“Fi, nobody is going to know anything.” It’s true despite her height of five-eleven, she looks exactly like what she is — a woman. She’s the only one who can’t see that. My bestie still has a little bit of body dysmorphia, but we’re working on that in therapy. “And if anyone does, we’ll kick their ass. You know Kandie and them don’t play that mess with their play cousins.” I assure her, recalling all the times one of the Love cousins came to visit us in the projects we grew up in. They treated us no different than their real cousins, Justice, Delightful, Lovie-Belle, and Miracle.
Fi visibly relaxes. My words bring a smile to her face. Which is good because we are at the venue of the fair doubled as Get Out The Vote event for Mathias Shelby, Delightful’s cousin, Nikki’s husband.
There is nothing that FADE won’t do for his wife and drafting me into this surprise appearance is just the tip of the iceberg. After a near two year hiatus, coming back on the scene with a new album and tour isn’t enough with new TikTok sensations popping every five minutes. I need to get my name out there with as much positive PR as possible. Especially with the abrupt cancellation of my tour a couple years ago. At the time I wanted to do nothing but lick my wounds and be alone with the brand new love of my life. I wasn’t ready to share my baby with the world. I’m still not. But mommy has to work to secure his future and this is going to be my last hurrah. Though I haven’t told anyone that not even Fi about my plans to retire when this tour is over. Not that Fi would be upset her money is set having branched out from being solely my stylist for years to having an entire list of A-list celebrity clientele. The other workers I need to set up for life after my retirement and one sure-fire way is for this tour to be a success. Many of them waited patiently for me while I was taking time off. I owe it to them to them to do my very best.
The car stops and we are met by the team that FADE set up beforehand. That’s one thing I love about working with him – he always takes good care of his artists.
“Is this Ayaan?” Summer coos as soon as the driver opens the door. A thick band of security surrounds us. Anyone looking on won’t even be able to tell it’s me in this oversized hoodie. She’s the only one who knows anything about him. Fi had to prearrange care for my baby while I preform and she gets me ready. Summer assured us over video chat he’d mix right in with the other toddlers and none would be the wiser.
Word’s gotten out that a big celebrity will be in attendance but they don’t know it’s me. Locals aren’t as excited about Santiago anymore since he and Mimi live down here, so FADE asked me to come to help his cousin by marriage out despite the fact that Mathias and his wife are from families that have a Montague and Capulet level feud that’s raged more than a century.
“Yes, this is my little prince.” I tell her not even bothered by the accuracy of my words. His father is prince but I don’t hold that against him I love my son no matter what.
“He’s going to cut up. You know he’s hasn’t been around people like that,” Fi warns as I prop him on my hip as we enter the tent that’s set up for hair and make-up.
“I’ll keep him with me until it’s almost time to go on. He used to going with someone and when I perform.” I assure Summer who seems unflappable at Fi’s misgivings.
“The area where we have the kids is close to the stage and in line of sight of the stage, so he’ll still see you and be able to play.”
“Sounds good.” I notice they already have a little play area neatly arranged in the tent. I put him down, watching as he toddles over to the little rug that has wood puzzles and jumbo blocks. In seconds I’m forgotten as he sees some of this favorite toys— dinosaurs and jungle animals.
“Roar, roar,” he exclaims.
Summer immediately sits down crisscross and they’re playing like old pals.
“Alright,” Fi says pursing her lips. “Let’s create an empress out of an elf.”
“I know you didn’t.” Gasping at the disrespect, I can’t help but join the laughter of her and Summer, who also can’t seen to keep it together.
In less than an hour she has my hair and makeup flawless as always. “The milk and honey forty-inch buss down is immaculate.” I tell her marveling at the blond wig she handmade and convinced me to try when I began training for this new tour. Turning, I watch the waves swing, stopping well below my bottom cheeks.
“Alright let’s suit up.” I’m only going to do a couple songs and ask everyone to register to vote. Being from Birmingham it’s kinda a legacy thing to encourage folks to vote; too many people fought and died for that right. Now, who they vote for ain’t none of my business. But anyone who knows me knows what my politics are and I’ve never hid it — not when I started and definitely not now that I have a bigger platform. Would I do something like this for his opponent? Never. Keeping it classy is my moniker these days. Still, I have to look exceptional because on the rare occasion anyone gets a shot of me not looking my best the blogs have a field day.
Fi hurries over with a designer piece. A white denim jumpsuit with strategic cutouts. “I swear this is taking longer to get on than the wig.” Grumbling, I wiggle and twist my body into the outfit that has built in shape wear. “You’re going to have to check to make sure my wig hasn’t come loose after this.” I huff jumping to get the jeans on. Yes, I trained so that I could have the stamina required for my upcoming tour but these curves don’t quit especially now with the extra plumpness having a baby gives me.
“I will.” Fi says, already sensing I’m about to get snappish now performance time is nearing. It’s jitters pure and simple and this the first time I’ve performed outside of industry listening parties since I finished the album.
I’m not a diva. Perfectionist, damn straight. I’m the employer of hundreds of people down an endless chain and each an every one of them depends on me being excellent in order for them to make a living. This goes from the top with Fi all the way to my household help. Me screwing up affects us all and me being in the right headspace means I’m able to do what I need to make all their livelihoods possible.
“There,” she says after zipping up the back of the outfit, a secure the neck clasp to ensure there are no wardrobe malfunctions. I always have to make sure my clothes aren’t at risk of tears or slippage.
Turning, I watch the rhinestones hit the lights, just as the designer intended. My tummy, hips and bottom aren’t camouflaged, so they disappear. No, they are on display in a love your curves kind of way.
Grinning at my reflection, seeing the peekaboo cut out that shows my love handles brings pure joy. It’s a big fuck you to the skinny obsessed media who tried to drag my plumpness.
“Nah, you dive into that shit.” FADE told me when my feelings got hurt after my sophomore project went double platinum and I wore a body positive outfit to the Grammys to accept my award and perform. It’s wild how those who claim they are feminist come for Black women when we own our freedom. Thankfully, I used that as a teaching opportunity and started a body positive and empowerment movement, “Own Your Curves.”
Having young girls come to me letting me know how much that made difference in their lives was worth the slings and arrows I’ve gotten in the process from haters.
“You out did yourself this time, Summer,” I look at the baby designer who I commissioned to do all my outfits for this tour after I saw the lovely wedding dress she made Mimi a couple years ago when she married Santiago.
Now, she’s doing Nikki’s entire wardrobe for Mathias’ senate run as they tour every county in the state. She’s a rising star in the fashion world and though I’m helping to platform her, everyone knows I don’t fuck with lame ass people. I’m the lucky one because she’s saving me money being a newbie. It frees me from the exorbitant prices of using a big name.
“Five minutes.” One of the security women, FADE, supplied calls from the entrance.
“Okay,” Fi says to the room at large. “We know what to do, people. Let’s have a prayer before the Empress hits the stage.” Everyone comes over and we say a quick prayer.
Afterwards, I press a kiss on Ayaan’s crown as Summer leaves so he can go play with Mateo, Mimi’s son.
“Ready?” Fi asks as we stand in the shadows watching Mathias’s closing statement and him asking for the vote of all those present.
“When am I not?” I grin, so ready to take the stage. Other than my son, I love this most in the world. I don’t think there is anything that will compare.
“That was wild.” I tell Fi rocking Ayaan, who wanted me to hold him while I read to him, only to fall asleep shortly after. My baby was exhausted. Right after my set the alarm went out that Nikki was missing. Luckily, she was found, but not in a good way. She and Joi almost died in a fire. We stayed with the Love family until they were both out of the woods.
“We’re lucky to be flying private,” Fi says from the side of the jet she’s commandeered.
“Yeah, being three hours late generally means you have to reschedule, but Mr. Takeda letting us use his private airfield to fly in and out was kindness itself.” I agree, stroking Ayaan’s back.
“He only did it for FADE and Krie,” she scoffs. “Did you see how cold he was just shooting off orders left and right? He knows how to get shit done.” She fans herself.
“Babe, I did.” Smiling, I have to agree. “He’s sexy as fuck. If I weren’t sworn off fine ass men and he was single, I’d play with him a little bit.” I glance at my little reminder of my last adventure.
“You can’t let that stop you. Just make sure your IUD is not expired next time.” She dead eyes me for a long moment before we laugh at it. That shit was not funny two years ago, though. I was terrified.
“I still can’t believe you finally decided to get down with the get down and you get knocked up the first time.” She bursts out laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
“I’m glad I can be a source of entertainment for you, hoe.” I roll my eyes. It’s funny, but it’s not because it’s not true. Choices have consequences and I’m still paying for the one I made not going on tour. I only avoided a lawsuit because I’m doing the sold out tour I canceled two years ago now after a lot of negotiating on FADE’s behalf.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t change anything. I know you wouldn’t either.” Eyes soft, she reaches over to touch Ayaan’s soft curls.
“I can’t stand you,” I grumble when she rights herself in her seat, pulling out her phone.
“I can’t believe Joi, did all that stuff.” Easing Ayaan down into the little bed I made for him, I stand. Now that he’s sleeping soundly, I can use the restroom.
“Humph, you never know about people,” Fi mumbles, scrolling on her phone as I walk by heading to the back of the cabin.
When I return, she meets me in the aisle.
“Girl, look at this mess. Joi was on a real one today.” The horror on her face has a sick, sinking feeling settling in my tummy.
SHELBY-LOVE CHRONICLE EXCLUSIVE
SUPER STAR’S SECRET SON
“I know the fuck she didn’t,” I swear, looking at the time stamp on the article. It’s marked six hours earlier, well before the incident. Right beside a picture of my son is a description and guesstimates of my son’s age and parentage. She says clearly that he has green eyes and assumes he’s biracial, which he’s not. Hassan is Black North African.
Grabbing my phone, I hit FADE’s number. “Aye, Lyric. I hear congratulations are in order. I got a nephew, man?” He growls over FaceTime, his handsome face marred by the deep cutting turn of his lips. “Everything makes sense now. How did you get Fi to keep this big of a secret? I’ll never know.” His deep baritone holds all the emotion I wanted to avoid. Disbelief, hurt and anger as he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.” I start.
“Nope. You don’t get to do that shit, Lyric. We’ve been together too long for that kind of BS. I know why you did it, baby girl. One look at him and I knew why you disappeared out of our lives for two years and cancelled your world tour.” He shakes his head again, sighing before raking his hand through his close cropped curls in agitation.
I still remember how he put himself on the line telling people I needed a mental health break and I was taking a hiatus. He defended me when people were saying I was on drugs; orchestrating a publicity stunt, or I was just being difficult holding out for more money.
“I was scared you’d tell him. He’s one of your best friends.” I move away from where Ayaan is sleeping, not wanting to him seeing me upset if he wakes up.
“Damn straight, I would tell him as soon as I knew. You have no right keeping that man’s child from him, Lyric. What the fuck are you were thinking?” Raking his hands through his curls again, he looks at me in disbelief, his words angry at my betrayal.
“I wasn’t, okay? My fear overwhelmed me.” My heart is racing just thinking back to how the best night of my life turned into a nightmare.
Stretching, I reach out and the bed is empty. Sitting up, I push the wild mass of curls out of my face. I only wear wigs for performances. I’m so tender headed, I’d be inviting a migraine if I constantly wore the tight bands on my head that Fi uses to secure my hair for shows and appearances. Mostly when I’m not in public, I wear my hair in its natural kinky curls.
Hassan didn’t seem to mind though, if anything he seemed to love touching my hair all night.
Checking the empty space and the open door to the bathroom and him not emerging, I guess time is up. It’s very close to dawn and I don’t know what made me wake. His side is still kind of warm. So he can’t have left too long ago. Maybe he’s giving me the respect of a less awkward goodbye.
The light streaming in reminds me of the rarity of me ever being up this early. Most nights find me in the studio making music or collaborating with FADE, Ghadi or some other up-and-coming artist FADE has his eye on and wants to give a chance. Late nights in the studio never make for early mornings. The sun is so beautiful. It draws me like a load stone out to the balcony.
Grabbing the button-down shirt he tossed on a nearby chair, I step out into the windswept morning, going straight to the balcony looking out to the skyline. It’s always beautiful. I never regret the move here and leaving New York state. FADE says I abandoned him, but Delightful understands since she lived out here for years and now both her sisters stay here and she visits often. I know she’s hoping to sway him over to the west coast.
Inhaling, I get a whiff of the familiar scent of him. A movement draws my attention. Turning, I see him rising. He grabs his prayer rug, folding it, his gaze raking over me.
“Sorry, I just wanted to see the sunrise. It’s so beautiful.” My voice sounds so soft and hesitant. It’s something about this man that softens me. Makes me want to please him like I’ve never felt the urge to for anyone in my life — not even Justice, who was the kindest, sweetest soul to have ever graced this earth. I know I’m building him up, but I want to keep that one thing as close to perfect because for a long time he was my only good thing.
Placing the rug on the chair as he passes, he comes to stand before me. He’s dressed in white linen and I can tell my this swing of his dick against the fabric that the linen pants are all he has on.
“You are what’s beautiful.” He looks at me like he means it. Blushing, I turn from him and ducking my head, suddenly very much aware of the wildness of my hair and how I probably look sleep drunk.
His heavy presence crowds behind me. “Plus, I like you wearing my shit.” The low growl hits me like the most potent aphrodisiac. Heat pools low in my belly, which only intensifies when I feel the press of his hard dick on my bottom.
“I know I said just for the night but I want you again if you would have me, Lyric.” I’m already nodding, turning to go back to the room .
“No, here.” He turns me back to the sun rising over the horizon.
He positions me with my legs spread and my ass tilted to take him. Dropping his linen trousers, he steps between my spread thighs wrapping his strong arm around my waist to hold me steady.
“I’ll try to be gentle, jameela, but that’s all I can do it is promise to try because you were such a good fucking girl taking me last night I fear I may lose control like I did last night in this good ass pussy.” He talks me through it as he pushes his thick, hard length past my lips and breaches my pussy with the most insistent thrust.
“Ohmygoodness, Hassan,” I whimper, taking every thick inch he’s giving me.
“You’re doing so good, babe. Take this motherfucker like the Empress you are,” he commands me like he owns every inch of me and in this moment he does. There’s nothing he could ask of me I won’t give him.
“Is it good?” He has the nerve to ask.
“It’s good. So good Hassan, so good.” I turn to look at those pretty ass eyes as he fucks me. Gripping my nape with his other hand, he holds me still as he drives deep inside me. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. Oddly, I feel safe with him. He’s doing this to give me pleasure. Each thrust brings us closer and closer until I’m clutching at him, trying my best to get into his skin as he hits my spot over, and over again.
“Has—” the word cuts short as the sharp crest of my orgasm hits me.
Snatching me to him, he eats at my mouth, fucking me through my orgasm.
“Wrap those thick ass thighs around me, ma,” he urges, pulling out his dick wet from me and still hard.
He lifts me, helping me reposition my legs around his waist. He cups my bottom, lifting me higher, lining me up with his dick, slowly thrusting while pressing me down on his length.
“That’s right. Breathe, baby, take this motherfucker.” His gaze locks on where our bodies join.
My synapsis threaten to misfire after I follow his direction and it feels like he’s in my fucking chest.
Holding me, he moves over to the chaises lining the balcony. Every step he takes to the one of the chaise lounges is an agony of pain and pleasure. Every step pushes his dick deeper into me. It’s a tease and delicious torment with every step.
Resting his back against the sofa, his eyes search my face. “We good, Lyric?”
“Yes,” I pant, easing up and down his length.
“Good, ride this motherfucker like you own it.” He grits out, showing me the rhythm he wants. He’s dominating me from the bottom. I grind my hips in a swirl and snap. Each drag of his dick against my already clenching muscles has me panting. Each movement is a torturous tease against my clit as well. Soon I’m chasing sensation after delicious sensation.
“Hell yeah, sparrow. Fuck me.” He growls, thrusting up into me. Leaning down, I take his lips. Reaching between us, he caresses my clit again and again, bringing me close and matching me stroke for stroke. Soon we are panting and straining. “Fuck,” he shouts, his fingers speeding, forcing me into the twisting sharp pleasure of a shared climax. I feel his dick flexing as he comes deep inside me.
I learned over the course of the evening he loves seeing my pussy filled with his come. New kink unleashed for me because I love when he played in it making me come for him again and again.
Drawing me into his arms we are quiet as our bodies cool off watching the sun fully emerge.
“You hungry?” He asks later when I wake in the bed. He has on glasses reading a script on his tablet from what I can see. The cutest five o’clock shadow is emerging because he’s not shaved yet. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by being naked working in bed while I slept beside him, just as naked. He might have liked me in his shirt, but he’s not let me put any clothes back on since then. Nudity is nothing to me since I have at least a dozen people around me between wardrobe changes during performances.
“Yep.” I say nothing about leaving because, to be honest, I don’t want to. He obviously feels the same way, because he’s kept me in this bed, making love to me all morning.
Instead of going into his office, he messaged his assistant he was working remotely.
“I’ll order for both of us,” he says, picking up the room’s phone and ordering two fruit salads; him steak and eggs and me pancakes and turkey sausage, a carafe of coffee, and orange juice.
“I’m going to take a quick shower.” Leaning over, I brush a soft kiss on his firm lips. He cups my neck, drawing me into a deeper kiss.
“Don’t take too long. I like you being here with me,” he admits lowly, like it’s as unexpected for him as it is for me.
“Same.” I smile, meaning it. It seems like he may like me more than he thought.
I finish my shower in record time. I just pull my curls up in a loose topknot, deciding to let Fi worry about it later.
Taking one of the robes Hassan left for me, I pull it on over his dress shirt. I’m sliding my arms into the sleeves, walking out into the living room area when I hear voices. At first I think it’s room service. Until I hear a word in Arabic which I am very familiar with. “Habibi” — my love.
From a soft, almost giddy feminine voice.
I’m standing at the entrance of the living area while Hassan’s back is to me as he stands in front of a table laden with food.
He’s rubbing his neck in agitation, but his voice is everything that is loving as he talks to the woman on the phone.
“I never even asked him if he was married.” Flutters through my mind as I stand there feeling like an idiot.
Ugh. A sick feeling settles in my stomach as I glimpse the beautiful woman on the video chat screen. I know she’s not his sister. I have seen many pictures of her with them from various official pictures of their family across the web.
He says something more to her and returns with his own expression of “Habibti”. I have enough Middle Eastern friends to know that they don’t just throw the equivalent of ‘my love’ around to random women.
On bare feet, I make my way over to the door. It was okay as long as I didn’t know, but there is no way in hell I’m fucking a married man. He’s so deep in conversation he doesn’t notice me. I’m not even stopping for my clothes. I took my shoes off at the door out of respect last night, so I bend to grab those.
“Lyric.” The harsh sound of my name has me stumbling as I’m pulling on my shoes. My fingers seem to be all thumbs, so I give up. Turning around, I face him, dread consuming me as if I were the one caught speaking to a significant other.
“Um…” I hesitate, seeing the hard look on his face rife with angry expectation. Despite the rumors, actually hate confrontation and avoid it at all costs. What people get as tabloid fodder is when I have been pushed to the brink because I’ve been too nice and let folks get away with too much, which is something FADE has got on me about many, many times. Perfectionist? Yes, when it comes to my craft and giving the fans what they pay their hard earned money for, but just being a pain in the ass for ego’s sake has never been my thing. So when this six-foot-four mountain is frowning down at me with the expectation of me throwing a fit, I just shake my head, backing up a step. Well, two.
“Didn’t know you were married.” My nose stings. Blinking fast as the horror I’m about to cry hammers into me. I’m acting like this is my fault. I’ve never heard that he was married — should have suspected. He’s a royal, for goodness’ sake.
“I’m not. Khadijah is my fiancée,” he states with grim finality.
“Okay, fiancée then. I didn’t know you were engaged. I would never—” words fail me. Raising my arms while holding the shoes, I feel ridiculous letting them flop at my sides. I turn to leave.
“Let me fuck you raw all last night and this morning?” He scoffs in disbelief like, ‘Sure Jan’.
Heat races to my face like he’s smacked me. I swing back around, hurt making my voice sound weak, and I hate that for myself. “No, no, I wouldn’t have, Hassan.”
In that moment, I can see every terrible thing he thinks about me playing across his face right before he says, “Yet you’ll sneak away like a coward instead of talking to me like an adult.” Disdain drips from every word.
I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to let him blame this on me.
“And do what? Are we including Khadijah in on this conversation?” Scorn drips from my lips as I shake my head, looking at his serial cheating ass. “Let her know how you’re going raw up into bitches while she’s waiting for you in Morocco?” If I thought my words would bother him, I should have thought again.
“You fucking Americans with your fake ass puritanical ideas. She knows who I am just as you did last night when you let me come inside you again and again,” he sneers down at me.
I’m not going to allow him to treat me this way. As much as I want to smush his fucking face in the wall beside me, I know this is a battle I can’t win.
Plus, he’s had his mind made up about me long before last night. It may have meant nothing to him, but it was everything to me. I’m not going to let him take that from me. He served his purpose.
“It was just supposed to be one night anyway,” I say as cavalierly as I can with a negligent shrug of my shoulder.
Turning, I press the button to the elevator. Nothing happens. That’s when I remember the access code. I don’t have the card and I definitely don’t remember the code.
After what seems like a small lifetime, I smell his cologne as he reaches past me to put in the code.
“Goodbye, Lyric.” His tone is furious in its finality.
“Bye.” I step into the doors.
He watches me as I leave his face filled with cold rage.